


they say the northern queen was touched by fire

by afewreelthoughts



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Dom/sub, F/F, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-23
Updated: 2020-08-23
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:41:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 732
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26054371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/afewreelthoughts/pseuds/afewreelthoughts
Summary: The political implications of their coupling were dangerous...but somehow they only ever occurred to Sansa when the queen was already spread out on her bed....
Relationships: Sansa Stark/Daenerys Targaryen
Kudos: 86





	they say the northern queen was touched by fire

**Author's Note:**

> book-verse, but 100% inspired by Sansa's s8 leather dress 
> 
> part of a series of fics beginning with the words "The political implications were dangerous..." 
> 
> I own nothing and make no money from this. Everything belongs to George R.R. Martin.

The political implications were perilous... but somehow they only ever occurred to Sansa when the queen was already spread out on her bed, willfully at her mercy. 

"Please," the queen whispered, whimpering beneath the motions of Sansa's hand between her legs. 

"Quiet," Sansa said calmly, pulling her long red braid over one shoulder. 

Sansa had once laughed at the very idea of her playing a part like this. It seemed absurd for her to take control over someone else, even more so that that someone else would wish her to... but once she tried, the role fit her like a glove. 

The dragon queen was bare and silver and gold on Sansa's bed, but Sansa herself was still laced into her Northern gown, only her gloves missing and folded neatly on the bed. Sansa liked this dress, the way strips of embossed leather in green and brown laced together to make the bodice, as though it were a kind of armor. 

She gently twisted her wrist and the queen cried out and fisted the covers at her sides, but she made no move to touch Sansa or move either closer to her or away. 

After all Sansa had seen and done, and after all this Targaryen girl had seen and done as well, actually tying her to the bed would ruin the thrill it gave both of them. The first time they did this, Sansa marveled that, when given an order and yet allowed to do exactly as she pleased, the queen was as sweet and pliant as she was defiant before the Northern council. 

Sansa ran her eyes down the sheen of sweat gilding the queen's skin and wondered, not for the first time, if her submission was meant to be a balm to her presence in the North. Make the Lady of Winterfell feel as though she ruled over the Targaryens in some way, and she would fail to see how the queen was claiming power for herself? Make her forget that the dream of Northern Independence slipped from her fingers more and more each day?

The queen's silver hair fanned out around her head. It only grazed her shoulders when she stood; it was shorter than any woman's Sansa had ever seen. The queen had mentioned one night, after Sansa had spanked her until her skin turned lively pink, that it had burned off completely years ago. 

"You like this, don't you? Putting yourself at my mercy?" Sansa said, the words bubbling up from her lips. 

"I wouldn't ask for it if I didn't."

Sansa gave in to curiosity and brushed a finger lightly across one of the queen's nipples. The queen cried out and one of her hands grasped Sansa's braid. 

The fact that she'd provoked such a response made heat pool between Sansa's legs... but she kept her calm. "Did I give you permission to touch me?" 

The queen moved her hands to her sides again. "Sorry, my lady..." 

"It's all right," Sansa said, "you've been very good tonight." 

"May I... may I come, Lady Stark...?"

The queen looked extraordinary when he hit her peak, and Sansa told herself that she deserved the sweetness of watching her do so. 

"If you return the favor, then you may," Sansa said, her heart beating quicker by the second. 

The queen's hands opened and closed, and Sansa gave into temptation and held one of them in her own. The queen's nails, her dragon's claws, sank into her palm. Sansa watched the queen's face, transfixed, as she moved her thumb over her sex again... and again... 

Daenerys Targaryen's mouth opened in a silent scream and she drew tight as a bowstring. Her nails bit Sansa's palm, and the feeling sent a spark down Sansa's spine. 

When she was spent, she lay on her side, looking up from beneath pale lashes. 

"Thank you, my lady."

"You don't need to thank me," Sansa said, knowing it ill suited her icy persona.

But it was true. 

"You requested that I return the favor?"

"I did," Sansa said, her heart thundering in her chest. 

The queen slid to the furs on the floor and pushed up Sansa's skirts with a languid smile. 

Did she know how very much Sansa loved this, how much they were so deeply intertwined? It was dangerous, Sansa thought, as she leaned back and closed her eyes. 

And she loved it


End file.
